


Meditation

by Niko_Niko_Neek



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Drabble, F/M, Trans Link
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-05 11:48:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21208034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Niko_Niko_Neek/pseuds/Niko_Niko_Neek
Summary: Short Drabble about Link cutting Zelda's hair. Allusions to trans link (because I'm trans myself and you can't stop me.)





	Meditation

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

The note in her voice is one of reserved hesitancies, a willingness to trust him, but tinged with worry all the same. Link doesn’t blame her-in fact, a small, amused smile crosses his face. He supposed that, had their positions been switched, he might be a bit nervous himself. Cutting hair could be a delicate process after all, particularly when all you had to use was a short Geurdo knife.

He lightly squeezes her shoulder in reassurance. 

“If you say so,” Zelda sighs, though she doesn’t sound entirely assured. Link is reasonably confident in his abilities-he’d been cutting his own hair since the calamity, and though he always kept it a little longer, he tried his best to keep it clean and out of the way. The main source of his grievances, all things considered, was that he’d been mistaken for a girl far more frequently than he wanted to admit-even now.

His fingers comb carefully through the long strands. Not too tangled, a far cry from the dirtied rat’s nest that Zelda’s hair had been when he’d carried her from Hyrule Castle, filled with ash and stained with malice, parts of it scorched and burned. He can still feel the damage now with his fingertips. The ends of her hair, a concerningly long way up, feel dry and crunch a little beneath his touch.

“How bad is it?”

It’s a joke, and Link chuckles and shakes his head. It’s not bad. She could never look bad.

…..There is a lot of damage though.

Sheathing his blade for the moment, Link circles around to kneel in front of where Zelda sits, his knee in the grass. They’d found a quiet spot near Hateno, at a stable on the outskirts of the wood. The scent of burning applewood filters in, heady and sweet, from a fire nearby. The stares hadn’t yet decreased when the two of them ventured out, but villagers no longer threw themselves down at Zelda’s feet or kissed her hand anymore. Link knew how uncomfortable she became at the hero-worship, and understood it probably more than anyone else. Now, they were able to mingle more or less left alone.

It was nice for quiet moments like this one.

Zelda is looking at him with expectation, eyes as vibrant as the sunkissed leaves above her. Link smiles, again-he can’t help it-and lightly brings the flat of his hand to his chin and quirks a brow.

“That short?” Zelda asks, brow furrowing. However, as her hand raises to her hair, she encounters the extent of the damage. “....I’m not sure if I could pull it off.”

Link shook his head quickly, drawing his hand across his face in the sign recognized as beautiful. Zelda’s cheeks go pink.

“....I suppose it can’t be helped,” she says with the same air as a rebel slated for execution. He grins a little before standing and getting to work.

The tricky part is always cutting it evenly. He doesn’t dare go straight across-he’d done that once on himself and wound up looking entirely ridiculous. Still, it’s hard to avoid when you’re using a blade, and Link winds up going layer by layer, his brow furrowed in intense concentration.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have short hair,” Zelda muses as strands of bright yellow drift to the ground. “I always thought it would be more practical. My father seemed to think it would make me less desirable to any potential suitors.” A short huff of air is exhaled through her nose.

“He loved you, you know.” 

He doesn’t like his voice. That was one of the few, faint memories that he still had to cling to when he’d resurfaced in the Shrine of Resurrection, along with the basic information-food was good, his name was Link, and he had a job to do. A century of sleep has dampened his vocal chords, causing a harsh grating tone that hurt his throat whenever he spoke too often or for too long.

That hadn’t been the only reason. Before, his voice had been too high-pitched. Too feminine.

“I know.” Zelda’s reply is soft. Reflective. He doesn’t press the subject further.

Cutting her hair takes a while, but he enjoyed the process, appreciated the amount of concentration it requires to ensure he doesn’t actually produce a jagged edge that appears sloppy. It’s certainly no trip to a luxury hairdresser, or the spas in Gerudo, but he hopes it’ll work.

When he is satisfied, Link combed fingers down from her scalp, ensuring that he has left behind a healthy amount of locks. The texture is soft, thankfully undamaged from Zelda’s century as sentinel. His forearms are covered in tiny strands of yellow, as is the cloak he’s draped around Zelda’s shoulders for that very purpose.

He left layers in a little longer, intentionally, and that purpose becomes clear as he begins to braid a small crown around Zelda’s head, to be tied at the back, ensuring the longer strands at the front don’t get caught in her face.

Quiet, deep breathing from below him tells Link that Zelda has fallen asleep. He doesn’t mind-she needs it, after fighting for so long.

Work finished, he returns in front of the young woman to inspect it. As though able to sense the movement, Zelda blinks herself awake. “Done already?”

He nods and offers his sheild, inside facing her, for her to inspect her reflection. She studies the metal with some consideration, hand reaching up to toy at the noticeably shorter strands of hair.

“Where did you learn to do all this? It’s remarkably professional.”

That aristocratic way of speaking still hadn’t left her, and Link merely shrugs. Still, a smile grows across Zelda’s face the longer she takes in her appearance.

“Perfect. It’s just what I imagined it would be.”

Link feels his shoulders slacken a little. He’d been strangely nervous about it. She’s right to be pleased, however-the shorter length seems to suit her in a way that couldn’t be described, as if the hair length had been simply another weight to keep her tied to the ground. The locks framed her face beautifully.

Zelda reaches out to give his hand a small squeeze. “Thank you, Link. You’re always helping me.”

With a smile, he brings her knuckles to his mouth for a moment.


End file.
